A Journey of Becoming

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A Display Of Hysterics

It’s a dark simulation. Our souls make their wayTo these game token bodies of weak flesh and bone.But this isn’t a real place, and what we do hereIs a delicate balance between love and fear.Each of us is an island that floats on its own.Nothing is worth the bother to hear what we say.

This is not true for everyone. I’ll walk it back.There’s a game being played here, but some can’t take part.It’s as if they’ve no vocal cords yet try to speakAnd expect to heard. I’m about out of cheekBecause there’s no more turning. This world breaks my heartAnd since no one is reading this I’m right on track.

Often I get hysterical and I lash out.I am that anti-social I’ll curse everyoneBecause I have a website. No one plays along.Others have one but because I do It’s just wrong.Friends and family would have me take a handgunTo my head rather than look at what I’m about.

Everyone plays this bullshit with me and it hurtsTo the depths of my soul, and it makes me insane.I’m an angry old bastard. Do Not Fuck With Me!This Game Is An Illusion. That much I can see.Twisted Twilight Zone episodes are for whose gain?Friendliness is fake tool to fuel just deserts.

And do I waste my time here? Again, there’s no ‘here,’But a ‘somewhere’ to suffer one’s plight upon stage.People are fun to play with, but not in this hellWhere I’m just not worth looking at. This evil spellIs not what I’ll get used to. I’ll nurture my rageTo the point of explosion. To no one I’m dear.